Ten Things I Love About You
by priestessgrrrl
Summary: This is a series of fics in a continuing theme: Ten things Ritsuka loves about Soubi and vice versa. Shonen ai.
1. Ritsuka 1

_Only Ritsuka can brush Soubi's hair_

Sometimes Soubi would paint and paint for hours, completely losing track of time. When he finally set down the brushes, he would tug at his hair impatiently, struggling to release it from its now-snarled ponytail. Ritsuka knew how sensitive his Fighter was and that if he left his hair up for too long, it hurt him and he would wince taking it out.

If Ritsuka happened to be there, he would come around behind Soubi, gently reaching his hands up to place them over his Fighter's. He would order Soubi to sit down and leave his hair alone. Ritsuka would then ever so gingerly tease the elastic out of Soubi's hair, careful fingers only barely touching the silken strands. Gathering his Fighter's soft hair in his hands, he would delicately massage his scalp, particularly the tender place where the ponytail had just been, causing Soubi to moan slightly.

Picking up the hairbrush, Ritsuka would slowly begin combing through Soubi's long locks, starting at the ends to make sure he got all the tangles out. He realized that he had to be especially attentive because he knew that Soubi was hypersensitive when it came to his hair. He never let anyone else touch it, and on the rare occasion it was caught or pulled during battle, Ritsuka could feel Soubi's anguish reverberate through their bond like a piercing scream.

If Ritsuka accidentally pulled too hard, or even if his hand slipped slightly, Soubi's entire frame would tense up under him. On bad days he would go entirely rigid and get that glazed look in his eyes that frightened Ritsuka because he knew Soubi was reliving some horrible moment from his past. When that happened, Ritsuka would stop immediately and wrap his arms around his Fighter, placing one hand on his too-fast-beating heart. Then he would bury his face in Soubi's shampoo-and-cigarette scented hair and just breathe with him until he was okay again.

Ritsuka loved Soubi's hair; he loved the fact that no one else but him was allowed to touch it, and he especially loved how Soubi would turn to jelly in his arms if he could get him past the sensitive stage, which he almost always could. It would progress to the point where each stroke sent Soubi into raptures and he would purr contentedly, curling his slender fingers around Ritsuka's ankles.

There were few things Ritsuka felt he could do to make his Fighter truly, simply happy, and this was one of them. Despite the fact that Soubi insisted that "whatever Ritsuka wanted" pleased him, Ritsuka knew that Soubi had a bad habit of swallowing his own needs to the point where he couldn't even recognize them himself.

Ritsuka did recognize them, however. He understood that Soubi needed to be touched, craved it like water in the desert. If he were touch-deprived for too long, Ritsuka would find him curled up against himself, shaking, rubbing his arms and legs, as if trying to create a cocoon of safety against the harshness of the world. Sometimes while in that state, Soubi wouldn't even recognize Ritsuka, nor accept his orders. Ritsuka had learned that if he simply laid down next to Soubi and stroked his hair gently, softly whispering his name, eventually his Fighter would reach up and take his hand. Then Soubi would turn over and wrap his arms around his Sacrifice, murmuring into his hair, "I'm sorry, Ritsuka." Ritsuka would order him to hush and they would lay like that, curled up together, until Ritsuka could feel Soubi's strength returning to him.

Ritsuka knew Soubi needed someone to be there when things got… bad. His Fighter needed patience and careful attention and most of all, he desperately, desperately needed love. Yet, although Soubi talked a lot about love and he told Ritsuka a thousand times a day that he loved him, he wasn't very good at receiving love himself. Ritsuka had to sneak it in wherever he could. And so, Ritsuka would brush Soubi's hair, and every stroke, every touch, every soft wave was a silent message: _I love you, I love you, I love you._


	2. Soubi 1

_Ritsuka wears his heart on his sleeve._

It was very unusual for Soubi not to know exactly what was going on with Ritsuka. The fact that his Sacrifice tried to hide it anyway was something Soubi found impossibly endearing. Every whisper of a feeling that entered Ritsuka's heart was telegraphed through his entire body: his darting eyes, his reddening cheeks, his quickening breath.

To Soubi, who had grown up among people who considered it a great achievement to wear a mask made of stone while bearing witness to every conceivable atrocity, Ritsuka's salient manner was nothing short of astounding. Soubi marveled at it daily. Ritsuka seemed to him like a brilliant scarlet flower, blossoming wantonly in the middle of an endless desert, undaunted by the fact there was nothing around him for miles and miles but dull, colorless sand.

Ritsuka's never-ending embarrassment at the silliest things was a perpetual source of amusement for Soubi. In order for them to get to the local park from Ritsuka's school, they had to walk by a certain store that had large pictures in the window advertising pornographic videos. Soubi never said a word about it, but every single time they passed by, Ritsuka would flush to his roots, tighten his grip on Soubi's hand and speed up his pace. It seemed to Soubi that if Ritsuka's kitty ears weren't so dark, he would be able to see them redden all the way to the tips. In the past he might have teased Ritsuka about it, but now he just smiled to himself and patiently waited the requisite two blocks or so for Ritsuka to get over his chagrin and be able to look at him again.

There were times when Soubi was very grateful for this ingenuous tendency of Ritsuka's, because he knew there were things that his Sacrifice found difficult to express in words, particularly those that were very painful to him. Whenever they happened to be in the park on a day when there were many families present, especially mothers and sons showing affection toward one another, Ritsuka would become very quiet and withdraw into himself.

Once they had watched a little dark-haired boy who very much resembled a five-year-old Ritsuka fall down and scrape his forearm. His heart-rending cries echoed through the park and his mother was all aflutter trying to soothe him. She immediately dropped to the ground and pulled him into her arms, telling him everything was going to be all right, petting him gently. Then she pulled a cloth and a bandage out of her bag and fixed him up right there, while the small boy stood blinking back his tears, amazed. She smiled and told him sweetly, "See? Mama made it all better. Don't you worry: Mama will always protect you. That's what mamas are for."

_That's what mamas are for._

Ritsuka had watched this entire scene frozen like a statue, his hand clutching Soubi's very tightly. Soubi knew he was trying very hard to be brave and not to cry. He was well aware that Ritsuka hated crying in public; it humiliated him, and he was terrified that everyone was looking and thinking that there was something wrong with him. The pressure to be "normal" and blend in was very intense for Ritsuka. Soubi could tell that under the surface, the bubbling cauldron of his Sacrifice's troubled emotions was spilling over: he _couldn't_ give in, he should be _ashamed_ of himself, everyone will know he was just _faking_ it, he wasn't _like_ everybody else, he could never, _ever_ be like them…

Soubi felt Ritsuka's breath catch and he knew what was coming: Ritsuka was about to bolt, to run away to be alone with his anguish, and he would order Soubi not to follow. Before that could happen, Soubi wrapped his arms tightly around his Sacrifice, who immediately started squirming. Soubi responded by pulling him even closer, pressing his lips to Ritsuka's ear.

"Ritsuka. Ritsuka, I will always protect you. That's what Fighters are for."

_That's what Fighters are for._

Ritsuka's whole body collapsed into Soubi's arms. He stopped struggling and clung to his Fighter desperately, his grief-stricken tears wetting Soubi's thin shirt, tight fists clutching at the soft fabric.

"Soubi..."

"I love you, Ritsuka. I will always love you."

Soubi had held him and stroked his soft kitten ears until he was okay again, saying a silent prayer of thanks that he, and he alone, could perceive and protect his Sacrifice's fragile little heart.


	3. Ritsuka 2

_Soubi never asked questions._

Often Ritsuka felt like he just wanted the whole world to leave him alone. It seemed like everyone was always badgering him with questions: his teachers, his friends, his therapist, his mother. _Ritsuka, are you all right? Ritsuka, won't you join our club? Ritsuka, what happened to your arm? Ritsuka, aren't you coming down for dinner…?_

It was exhausting, having to constantly rack his brain to come up with safe answers to their never-ending interrogations. _I'm fine. I don't have time. I'm clumsy. I'm not hungry…_

His ever-acquiescent Fighter, however, although he could sometimes be annoying, never asked those sorts of questions. As many times as Ritsuka had arrived with new cuts and bruises, as many chaotic situations Soubi had walked in on, even that horrible time Soubi had found him tied to a chair in the kitchen, Soubi never said anything. No _oh my God, what happened, are you all right, _none of that. Just Soubi's knowing, accepting eyes peering out at him behind circular lenses.

At times it seemed to Ritsuka that Soubi was merely an extension of himself, just another part of the fabric of his own being, a silent witness to all he went through, without judgment, without opinion. Ritsuka supposed some people would find that strange or think it was wrong. It was true that sometimes Soubi's unresponsiveness disturbed Ritsuka, especially during spell battles, when he could be extremely callous. Ritsuka sometimes worried that there was a part of Soubi lurking under the surface whom he had not yet met and would perhaps not like to meet.

Yet everyone failed to understand just how much of a relief it was for Ritsuka to have someone in his life who didn't demand explanations, someone he didn't have to hide things from or make up lies to placate. Soubi was just there, like a tall tree with great sheltering branches, providing refuge and demanding nothing in return.

There was one awful time when Ritsuka's mother had scalded him with hot water and the whole left side of his face had been scarred bright red. He was up half the night worrying about what he would do the next day, desperately trying to come up with a story that sounded plausible. Skipping school was tempting, but he knew that they would call his mother and it would just make things worse. Besides, it would only prolong the inevitable, because the scar wasn't going to go away any time soon.

For an entire, wretched day that seemed to last an eternity, Ritsuka struggled to keep his hair in his face and fend off questions as best he could, self-hatred rising in his throat like bile. _It was an accident; our shower was broken; the landlord had to come to fix it. _Of course they wouldn't simply accept his lies. His teacher pulled him aside, the school counselor wanted to talk to him, and for one terrifying moment they threatened to call his mother to corroborate his story. Luckily they either gave up or were unable to reach her and Ritsuka was able to breathe again.

By the time school let out, Ritsuka was in such a fragile state, his nerves were so shattered and his hands were shaking so hard that he nearly dropped all of his books. _Just let me get home, please; I can't stand it if one more person questions me today…!_

He rushed out of the school with his head down, trying to avoid all contact. He'd just about made it down the street without notice when he felt the habitual grip of his Fighter's long fingers on his elbow. _Soubi, I don't have time for this today…!_

"Soubi, let go, I need to go home today, I'm not –"

He stopped. Soubi seemed to be holding him oddly for some reason. When Ritsuka twisted around, he realized why: Soubi's other hand was full of ice creams.

"Ritsuka. They had new ice cream flavors at the 7-Eleven. I didn't know which one you would like, so I bought all of them." Soubi was looking right at him, smiling as if ice cream were the most important thing in the world.

"Soubi…!" Ritsuka crushed himself against his Fighter. Calm washed over him like a cool hand on a fevered forehead as Soubi's steady arms wound around him. _Soubi, don't leave; I need you; don't go…_

Soubi pulled back, reaching out to touch Ritsuka's hair gently on the left side of his face. Ritsuka felt a moment of panic. _No, Soubi, not you, too, please, no…!_

"Ritsuka, I'm so sorry… I got ice cream in your hair."

Ritsuka breathed in sweet relief, trying to hold back tears. "I-it's okay, Soubi. It's okay."

_Now that you're here, everything's okay. _Ritsuka nestled himself under Soubi's empty arm as they started walking home. "Which flavors are they? Did they have cherry blossom yet?"

Ice cream and no questions: this was Ritsuka's perfect definition of love.


End file.
